Chapter 1044
He was wearing a grey sweatsuit, a towel draped around his neck, his face flushed from a morning run. But what made Skye’s breath catch in her throat were his legs.
They were long, muscular, and perfectly functional. He stood tall, shifting his weight effortlessly from one foot to the other. No wheelchair. No limp. No nerve damage.
“Ethan?” Skye whispered, pushing her chair back so fast it tipped over and crashed onto the rug.
She stared at him. “Your legs… you’re walking.”
Ethan grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and took a loud bite. He looked at her as though she had lost her mind.
“Of course I’m walking,” Ethan said, chewing. He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I just ran five miles. What’s wrong with you? Did you sleep weird?”
Skye’s eyes filled with hot tears.
This was it. Her deepest, most desperate, unspoken wish. To see Ethan whole again. To undo the tragedy that had broken him.
She didn’t care if it was a dream. She didn’t care if it was a hallucination.
𝗙𝗂𝘯𝗱 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦l 𝖯𝘋Fѕ о𝗇 g𝖺lnovе𝘭s.𝘤𝘰𝗺
She launched herself across the room and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his sweaty shoulder. She hugged him with a fierce, crushing grip, terrified that if she let go, he would collapse.
Ethan grunted, stumbling back a step from the impact. He patted her back awkwardly, a mix of affection and disgust on his face.
“Okay, okay, calm down,” Ethan laughed, trying to peel her off. “Gross, Skye. Don’t rub your expensive pajamas in my sweat. I stink.”
Skye pulled back, wiping her tears, a watery laugh escaping her lips. “I don’t care. I just… I’m so glad to see you.”
“Yeah, well, save the waterworks for tonight,” Ethan smirked, tossing the apple core into a nearby bin. “Speaking of tonight, which dress are you wearing for the banquet? Dad invited half the city.”
As if on cue, the head housekeeper entered the room, followed by two maids pushing a rolling garment rack.
“Miss Skye,” the housekeeper said politely. “The boutique sent over the final selections for your approval.”
Skye walked to the rack. Her fingers brushed against the expensive fabrics—silk, chiffon, velvet.
Her hand stopped on a pristine white lace gown. It was modest, elegant, and entirely submissive. It was exactly the kind of dress she used to wear in her past life to please Liam, to fit into the Kensington mold of a perfect, quiet wife.
A wave of revulsion hit her stomach.
She shoved the white dress aside. The hangers clattered against each other.
Her eyes landed on the dress at the very end of the rack. It was a deep, blood-red silk slip dress with a plunging neckline and a high slit—a dress that screamed of defiance and power. A dress for a woman who owned the room, not a girl hiding in the corner.
Even in this perfect, innocent dream, the Phoenix inside her refused to be caged.
She pointed at the red silk. “I want that one.”